Category: Travels

Farewell, Utah liquor law that never directly affected me

The "Lost" spike and the completion of the Transcontinental Railroad
The “Lost” spike and the completion of the Transcontinental Railroad

This is going to be a weird post because it’s about a liquor law from my homestate of Utah that I never really ran into, but I could have — before today. In the past, bars were “private clubs” where customers had to buy a “membership” before you could enter and buy a drink (or else be a guest of a member). It was an interesting hurdle for people who are used to something different (or normal).

The private club memberships went away at midnight MDT, and with them went my last chance to become a “member” under this unusual law.

In the end, I kinda wanted to get a private membership. Yes, it’s weird that I would want to get a private membership for the sake of getting one. Did I ever mention to you that I wanted to visit a Quizno’s in Seattle?

Don’t get me wrong, being a member of a private club in Utah was probably less cool than becoming a member of the National Geographic Society or Consumers Union, or wearing a Members Only jacket. It never came up when I was growing up (because I was obviously a minor). I’ve only been back a few times since turning 21.

When I visited Salt Lake City in July 2008, I thought I might need to buy a membership when tagging along with a friend who now lives in the city. Alas, the opportunity never came up in three chances.

  1. An evening concert in the park had a beer garden. They checked ID, but there was no membership requirement.
  2. On a separate day, we went to a brewery in Trolley Square. No membership was needed — apparently breweries could sell their wares without them.
  3. The last chance came when we went to get brunch on a Sunday. It’s a nice restaurant with a bar area. Surely, I would need to pay for a membership here. No dice, my friend knew a member on staff and we were admitted as guests.

While I may have missed my chance to become a “member,” it’s still not too late for me to become utterly confused by Utah’s new liquor laws. The private clubs are essentially gone, but will be replaced with “social clubs” and “dining clubs,” each with different, yet similar rules. On top of that are full-service restaurants and beer taverns which can serve alcohol but follow another set of rules. A short rundown is here.

These changes only address clubs. If you wanted to buy a six-pack of Sierra Nevada Pale Ale to enjoy in the comfort of your home, you still need to go to a state liquor store.

Photo: The photo behind the “Lost Spike” at the California State Railroad Museum shows the completion of the Transcontinental Railroad at Promontory Summit, Utah in 1869. Here’s a better look. I saw the workers holding up champagne and was intrigued that alcohol was used to commemorate this landmark event that happened in Utah.

Fighting back against excess airline fees

Suitcase

I don’t fly the major air carriers very often. An experience with onerous fees during a recent trip makes it even less likely that I’ll choose to fly them again in the future.

At issue is the fact that airlines are seeking new ways to charge passengers more for services that have been included in the standard service for decades.

It’s been a gradual process that slowly removed in-flight meals and other amenities from the standard fare. Now, it’s come down to checked baggage — last summer they were charging for two or more bags. This year, they’re charging for the first checked bag and may have gone too far for my taste.

Charging for the first bag is a major hassle and an inconvenience heaped upon a stack of flying inconveniences that have increased since 2001. Checking a bag is the easiest option if you want to fly without making sure your liquids aren’t carefully rationed out and bagged.

In some ways, checking bags makes it a lot easier for passengers boarding and deplaning. I’m never one of those people you might see taking five minutes trying to cram a steamer trunk into the cramped overhead bin.

Earlier this month, I was traveling to the Midwest for a wedding. Because I was taking an extended trip and anticipated bringing some Michigan goodies back with me, I brought my larger suitcase to the airport.

Facing an early-morning departure and a desire not to park my car for $9/day at Sacramento for more than a week, I opted to fly out of San Francisco International Airport.

Getting there about eight hours before the flight, I hoped to check my bag in before heading into the city for some entertainment. No dice — the agent said rules prohibit checking in baggage that early. Given the post-2001 rules, I acquiesced and ended up lugging this big bag through the streets of San Francisco. I only got a few weird looks at the karaoke bar.

When the ticket counter opened in the morning, I was ready to check my bag and ran into another roadblock. For the convenience of checking a bag, Northwest (which is being absorbed into Delta) wanted to charge me $15.

Prompted to pay this new fee, I was a little testy when I told the agent that I was extremely unhappy. She noted it’s a fee that nearly all the airlines are now charging.

“Southwest is the only airline that doesn’t charge for the first bag,” the agent said.

“Exactly. That’s why I’m going to fly with them from now on,” I replied.

After clearing through security, I was still miffed by the fee. I called Northwest reservations to complain. They helpfully gave me the number of customer relations, but the call center wasn’t going to open for another hour.

For a few minutes, I delighted in thinking about what I was going to tell Northwest. I fantasized telling them that I would rather fly Southwest to Chicago and then take a 10-hour bus ride to my destination rather than giving Northwest/Delta another dollar of my business.

Eventually, I realized it was all a little silly and waited bleary eyed to board my flight.

The incident started to fade my memory after a couple of weeks and a relaxing train trip home without extra fees. I was content to let the matter drop until I read this quote in an article about fees:

“They’re going to keep nudging them up until they
run into market resistance,” said Ed Perkins, a contributing editor at
the Web site Smarter Travel.

If that’s the case, then it’s almost my duty to complain. After all, I wouldn’t like to see airlines continue to nickel and dime the passengers they rely on.

Now, it’s just a matter of waiting for that call center to open.

Winners and losers in the digital TV conversion

Digital TV converter boxI want to check out some winners and losers with the recent switch to digital TV over-the-air signals. Depending on where you live or what you like to watch, the switch had some pretty interesting outcomes.

Here’s a quick look at the scorecard:

Winner — The National Football League. The original conversion date was set in mid-February. Lawmakers took pains to avoid making the switch around the Super Bowl. Even the summer switch doesn’t affect the NFL.
Losers — The National Basketball Association and the National Hockey League. It’s pretty clear that Congress _didn’t_ consider these two when setting the new date of June 12. Both the NBA and NHL were the midst of their league finals. For the NHL, a pivotal Game 7 took place on the day itself.

Winners — Big cities. When I visited Salt Lake City in March, I checked the DTV set-up at several relatives’ houses. Not only was the set-up fairly easy with indoor antennas and strong local signals, the number of channels available was amazing — upwards of 20+. Of course, SLC has 3 public TV stations so it’s not a huge surprise (those three stations are responsible for about 12 channels alone).
Losers — Small cities. It’s more of a crapshoot pulling in DTV signals from more distant locations (such as trying to view Redding stations from Chico). My neighbor has been on the roof at least four times adjusting an antenna to pull in Redding’s PBS station, KIXE 9.

When you do manage to pull in a signal, the station offerings aren’t as robust, although there are some additional channels. In many areas, some viewers may give up over-the-air viewing and opt for satellite. This isn’t necessarily an option in the smallest of markets which currently don’t have local channels on satellite.

Winners — People with good converter boxes. Having a good converter box can greatly add to a viewer’s DTV experience. Look out for the ability to change the viewing options (such as zooming in on the image) and having a reliable on-screen program guide.
Losers — People with bad converter boxes. I tested a couple of boxes that stunk out loud. It was next-to-impossible to change some of the viewing options. Some of the boxes had a clunky interface, requiring scrolling through several on-screen menus.

Draw — People watching TV over-the-air. Assuming you can pull in DTV signals on your antenna, the viewing
experience is much better than before — clearer pictures, more
offerings, etc. It’s free, but you don’t necessarily get all the channels that other systems offer.
Draw — People watching over cable/satellite. Clearer pictures and tons of channels are something that cable/satellite viewers have enjoyed for years … at a cost. Also, the new DTV subchannels are just now being added to cable systems, but they’re often require a digital cable box (at additional cost) to view.

Undecided — The people who didn’t make the switch. In the lead-up to the switchover, there were concerns that some groups of people, including the elderly, indigent and non-English speakers, wouldn’t make the switch. The number of people who weren’t prepared for DTV was shrinking, but I don’t know if it shrunk enough.

So, how do you think the DTV switchover game played out?

Photo: A Digital Stream converter box used during a May 2008 E-R test.

The best karaoke place in San Diego

Just to pick up on my post from last week, I have a _much, much_ better time at the second San Diego karaoke place I sang at.

After my 10-year reunion on Aug. 19, I drove around the corner from Shelter Point and pulled into the Captain’s Catch inside of a Ramada Limited. It was getting late in the evening, but I was able to sing TWO songs.

Sure the place wasn’t very crowded and the book was just all right, but people seemed to appreciate my music selection and were digging it. I sang Cake’s “Never There” and Cab Calloway’s “Minnie the Moocher.”

So, in my limited opinion, Captain’s Catch is the “best” karaoke bar in San Diego. Even if it’s not, it’s a million times better than the Lamplighter.

Shakedown – Aug. 19

SAN DIEGO — I’ll expand on this latter, but there were several things that detracted from the enjoyment of my night on the town Friday. These are just niggles and didn’t take too much from my night.

— While attempting to buy tickets online for Friday’s Padres game, the site wanted to charge me $6.50 in fees … for a $12 ticket. That seemed a little too steep for me. Luckily I was able to buy the tickets for no added mark-up at the stadium ticket booth. Used the saved money to buy a program.

— I spent nearly 3 hours at San Diego’s “best” karaoke spot, The Lamplighter, and didn’t get to sing once. Apparently the KJ lets anyone who “tips” him a sufficient amount to go ahead of others. I wasn’t going to play that game — especially after paying a $5 cover — and thus didn’t get to sing (which was going to be “Shakedown”). After all, tips are gratuity and what did I have at that point to be grateful for? Zilch.

While I didn’t pay, the person before me did and sang an hour after signing up (“Bohemian Rhapsody”). I had dinner at ‘bertos instead.

It frustrated me because I shouldn’t have to pay to sing (and I don’t in Chico). From a different perspective, I _do_ pay to sing. I paid the cover charge (for karaoke) plus two beverages and tips.

I’m sure it’s all water under the bridge for the bar. My complaint isn’t a new one and I’m sure the bar keeps running with those people willing to pay or those who are satisfied nonetheless.

However, I hearby challenge the designation of The Lamplighter as “the best” as ranked by several local publications. The KJ has a great book and the bar’s pretty nice, but  I have no desire to return after my experience and would tell my friends the same. Karaoke at El Torito is probably a better time.

Keep on Rocklin in the Free World

I don’t normally go to Rocklin for karaoke at Rebounds, but I thought of four reasons to travel down there Sunday. A quadruple threat if you will. There was:

  1. Karaoke. It was pretty fun the last time and the singers were good (there was a contest).
  2. Trivia. It’s the closest place to play NTN.
  3. Seeing people. Maybe that girl from Sacramento would be there again.
  4. Supper. Maybe check out Texas BBQ or Old Spaghetti Factory for a bite. Well, I couldn’t find the BBQ place (again). Maybe next time after I’ve looked up directions. So I ended up just going to Garden Fresh.

The karaoke was servicable. It was a new group starting after the old KJ quit last month to start her own company. The bartender said the crowd has dropped off after she left. I hope it picks up. Ultimately it wasn’t that bad of a night. I sat at the bar, playing trivia and reading the Bee in between songs.

  • She Caught the Katy
  • Busted
  • It’s the End of the World
  • Minnie the Moocher
  • Friends in Low Places

While I took the wrong highway (again) to Arden Fair, I did get out of Rocklin in a straightforward fashion, instead of driving in circles.

Shooting Stars

Editor’s note: This essay was published on an earlier incarnation of this site, but didn’t make the transition for some reason. I’ve re-created it here, but I don’t recall exactly when it was published — aside from “Nov. 1998.” — RTO

Beauty isn’t skin deep

Nov. 1998.

Sometimes the best things in life are those that are inexpensive and simple. When you consider it, what is more worthwhile, a walk in the park with the sun setting behind the mountains or seeing what dribble television network officials smear across your boob tube screen.

I saw one of the most beautiful things last month when I drove for 45 minutes up into the mountains of San Diego County to witness the Leonid meteor shower. I had been disappointed that I had never seen a meteor shower in person. My love of space is deep — springing forth from tomes of science fiction and the stories of real space exploration. In the fourth grade, I was proud member of the Young Astronauts club. In the tenth grade, I brought a viewer to witness the last total solar eclipse in North America during my lunch period. To witness a meteor storm would be terrific.

My evening got off to a late start — I was doing some late research in the library. It was after midnight when I left campus to join some friends that had already left.

I was worried about the weather. Forecasts said that the viewing in Southern California would be poor. As I approached the foothills I grew worried — an inland fog had settled in. If the fog stayed, there would be no way of seeing the showers. My fears were unfounded as my car broke through the fog as we ascended the hills and I could see the stars with a clarity that I could never see in the city. At long last, I finally reached the peak of the hillside.

I got off the interstate and proceeded to drive along the winding road that lead to the peak of the mountain. I was astounded by how many people were in the turnouts of the road — there seemed to be dozens of cars. I entered the Cleveland National Forest and saw another surprise — there are honest-to-God forests in San Diego County. Tall, glorious trees lined along the road with their leaves scattered in my path. I could pretend for an instant that I was driving on a backroad in Georgia, Utah or Colorado.

Not long after my discover of trees, I saw my first meteor. The meteor blazed across the sky right above the road that I was driving on. It looked very much like brilliant fireworks streaming in the sky. I couldn’t wait to pull off of the road to see more. My search for my friends was in vain, I kept driving until I realized that I had gone too far. I turned back and made a hasty dash back towards the interstate so that I could view the peak of the show. All the while I could catch glimpses of the meteors streaming across the sky. One meteor seemed to race alongside of my car.

Before long, I had reached the largest turnout. I pulled in, careful to turn off my headlights so that I wouldn’t disturb the viewing of those that had been there for hours. I got out of my car so that I could take in a total view of the night sky. Almost immediately, I realized that my T-shirt and jean shorts were going to do little to keep the cold away from me. It was really cold, but I soon grew accustomed to the mountainous climes.

At first I wandered around alone gazing at the black sky set afire with the light of a trillion stars. The shooting stars would speed through the sky every thirty seconds. Even though each individual meteor was a different size, they all looked like miniature comets spending their last instant suspended in the air. As I stood in the crisp cool mountain air, I craned my neck so that I could scan the sky. More than once I wished that I could see the entire expanse of the sky, but the view I had was enough. I could see the vast expanse of the Milky Way Galaxy spread across the sky. I could see the Big Dipper hiding behind the summit of the mountain and the moon hanging high.

Eventually, I came around to some people trying to take photographs of the night sky. The people I talked to were very polite, probably because everyone that spent the night in the mountains had something in common — they were crazy enough to be awake at two in the morning to see a meteor storm. While I was talking to these people, I saw the greatest meteor of the evening. The meteor created a flash that made everyone pause. The meteor skipped across the sky flaring like strobe light and left a brilliant light path in its wake. I could almost hear the sound of the meteor as it crashed into the atmosphere. I could hear the people near their cars ooh, aah and cheer as if this were similar to a baseball game in a stadium. The people with the cameras quickly shifted to try and catch a glimpse of the now-departed rock. Despite all of the fun, I had to tear myself away — I needed to go back to school so that I could work early that morning.

Even though I was completely satisfied with the show that morning, there was still one more spectacle in store. I was driving home on Interstate 5 from UCSD that Friday night, I could see one last shooting star fire through the sky pushing past the thick blanket of cold impersonal city lights. As I drove on, I quietly whispered aloud the old children’s wishing poem “I wish I may, I wish I might, See the first star in the sky tonight…” When I reached the wishing part of the poem, I trailed off into silence with a sigh. I thought of all my dreams and wishes and yet not resolving to choose merely one for that long-gone shooting star.